Growing Up
by Fireagle
Summary: Rosie POV during the sixth year of the trip


A/N - New story! This is in the 'real' SC universe, using my personal ideas for Mercurian culture. This is set in the sixth year of the trip, and some things have happened that are only hinted at in the story. I may write about them, I may not. It depends on my mood.  
  
Disclaimer – I don't own Rosie or any character mentioned in here. Mercurians as an idea was introduced in SC, but were never really detailed. SC is owned by Nick, PAD, Mumy, and a bunch of other people who are not me. Oh, and the quote used is from Not a Girl, Not yet a Woman by Britney Spears.  
  
  
  
  
  
But if you look at me closely  
  
You will see it at my eyes  
  
This girl will always find her way  
  
  
  
"Who are you to everyone else?"  
  
What kind of question was that? I fell onto the Team Room couch, thankful that it was empty. That meant I was able to lay stretched and have peace and quiet to do Miss Davenport's new essay.  
  
I figured I might as well tackle the first part of the question first. Who was I? That was easy enough. I was Rosie, Chaser-born, Mercurian, Ianni, only child, Stardog-trained, actual Stardog cadet, crewmember of the Christa, Medical Officer, Communications Officer, Holder of the Botany and Biological Offices, and the unofficial mediator of the other six people I'm constantly with.  
  
That was a lot. I decided to tackle them one by one. First was my name. Rosie, shorthand for Kairos. Kairos is an old-tongue name for the lead Chaser that circled Rigel. Chasers were, in myths, huge dragons that circled Oraken, the Mercurians home planet. We were surprisingly intelligent about the facts of comets in tribal days; we could pinpoint each year each individual comet would arrive. Those born under comet-years were blessed in ways normal people couldn't understand. Kairos was the name given to the first child born under the First.  
  
So, yes, I was Chaser-born. It was, according to Elder Papiyu, why I decided to become a Stardog. Why I wouldn't settle with being just trained like a Stardog, I wanted to actually go out there and travel and care for people that were giving their lives to keep everyone else safe. It was something that I understood, deep down in my eli, my soul. I know it's something I've always done.  
  
I'm also Mercurian. That should be very obvious by now, in the way I act and look. I was a bald, pink skin, bright attitude, and an always willing to help Mercurian…that's me. But not entirely me, not anymore. I can't imagine anyone at home manipulating their way so their friends would stop fighting, using cold cruelty to make someone 'wake up'. But I do, because sometimes that's the only way I can make them stop being stupidly blind.  
  
Ianni is my ethnic 'name', used as a last name at Star Academy. Actually, it's one of the two ethnicities in Mercurian culture. They're separated by whose ships they were carted out on times so far past the Elders' great-great-great Elders' wouldn't remember. Toudri followed the Saturnians' ancestors, and Ianni followed the Uranusians' ancestors. Ianni tend to be more naïve than Toudri, and Toudri were more insane.  
  
Oddly enough, I'm an only child. This has never bothered me much, because I had all my cousins running around our complex, many of them the same age as I am. I got best of both worlds: my parents' entire estate one I reach of age and age-mates so I never got bored! It worked. And two of them came with me to the Star Academy, training to be engineers. Then again, they won't home at the end of the year and wanted me to go with.  
  
Few Mercurians are Stardog-trained. In the time I was there, I believe there were a total of ten. Out of the some-thousands students that were there. That was bad enough; I can't even imagine how Radu felt being the only Andromedan.  
  
Becoming an actual Stardog cadet was my first jump to my long-term goal of being an actual Stardog. And trust me, the hoop jumping I did to get to that point amazed even me. And no one knows the trouble I had getting to that point.  
  
Boarding the Christa was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. I was given a chance to prove to everyone, and myself, that I had what it took to be a Stardog. On the trip, I have gained friends, knowledge, a clear view of the galaxy, and a reason to stand up for what I believe in.  
  
I have gained a lot of titles, not to mention my secondary ones. Medical Officer was my first, given to me in the first week of the trip. At first it was bandaging small injuries, simple first-aide, and cataloguing what supplies we needed for the variety of races we had on the ship. I learned you needed a clear mind and a good memory to remember how each person dealt with each type of medication and treatment and to not screw it up without expecting dire consequences. It was difficult when I realized that I was alone in treatment on a regular basis, with neither you nor Commander Goddard to tell me if it was right or not.  
  
Communications Officer was honorary at first, like Bova at Tactical. It wasn't like we had weapons or anyone relying on his skill as a tactician. No one to connect with, and if we did Commander Goddard usually dealt with it. Soon enough, though, I was finally able to actually be a Communications Officer once we reached plenty of friendly space.  
  
Goddard, giving me the ability to make decisions personally for our various plants and animals of the crew, made up the Botany and Biological Offices. I guess he got tired of me running after him to get permission for something he really didn't care about.  
  
I'm the mediator of everyone, albeit subtly. Catalina gets in a fight with Bova, I head her off long enough to calm her down. Harlan pisses off Radu; I step in and tell them to behave. This ship would be like a soap opera without someone to hold off the tempers. Maybe it'd be more interesting if it was, but habits are hard to break.  
  
Now to tackle the second part of the essay.  
  
Who am I to everyone else? That's easy. I don't think I've outgrown my 13-year-old status of little Rosie, the cute little Mercurian kid. Even Bova's grown past that with the others. It helped with his whole drug problem a year back, but still. He, along with Elmira and Radu, are technically younger than me.  
  
Have any of them seen that I'm not as naïve and immature as I was before? I no longer push ideals that are all pink and fluffy on them, as I realize they don't osmosis them that way anyways. Might as well slip it in, all subtle-like.  
  
And do they appreciate all that I do? Well, probably not, and that is my fault. Unlike Harlan and Catalina, I don't shout my successes to the general public. And I did specialize in not letting any of the others know that I've been watching the balance of the attitudes. I'd rather avoid the attention to that revelation.  
  
There, my essay was done. Not revised, but done. I sent it to Miss. Davenport's CP, and went on all my daily chores.  
  
That night, after my Compost watch and was thoroughly bushed over trying to keep from Bova and Catalina rip each others throats apart, I found my CP blinking. I flipped it open.  
  
Rosie –  
  
I think you underestimate your importance to the others. I have yet to see anyone pick a fight with you without them having dire consequences.  
  
Theresa Davenport. 


End file.
